


The Comforts of Night

by gemgirl28



Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Alternate Universe, Ambassador Katara (Avatar), F/M, Inspired by Fanfiction, Katara is so far in denial, Masturbation, Mentions of the Blue Spirit, Mentions of the Painted Lady, Post-Canon, She's in Egypt, Smut, Solace of the Night AU, zuko is smitten
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-02
Updated: 2021-03-02
Packaged: 2021-03-14 12:01:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,994
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29791611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gemgirl28/pseuds/gemgirl28
Summary: Katara has been back in the Southern Water Tribe for three weeks. Neither she nor Zuko can sleep.Katara no longer feels sure of what her role is anymore.Or maybe, she doesn’t know what she wants her role to be.Or maybe, she does know and is too scared to face it.
Relationships: Katara/Zuko (Avatar)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 112





	The Comforts of Night

**Author's Note:**

  * For [goldilocks23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldilocks23/gifts).
  * Inspired by [The Solace of Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208343) by [goldilocks23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldilocks23/pseuds/goldilocks23). 



> So back in December [goldilocks23](https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldilocks23/pseuds/goldilocks23) posted [The Solace of Night](https://archiveofourown.org/works/28208343) and I haven't been ok since. This is 100% inspired by that incredible fic and won't make sense if you haven't read it. If you haven't read Solace, you should stop and go read it and the other three incredible fics it inspired. And even if you have read Solace, you should go reread it anyways. This is my humble contribution to what has affectionately become known as "The Solace AU".
> 
> Not only is the work inspiring, but so is the author. Goldilocks, your encouragement and willingness to let me word vomit at you means so much to me. <3
> 
> Hugs and love times 1000 to [hereforthezutarastuff](https://hereforthezutarastuff.tumblr.com/) for beta reading! <3

At the end of the war, Katara wants nothing more than to return home.

The further into peace she gets, the less she knows where home is.

* * *

Katara landed in the Southern Water Tribe less than three weeks prior. Already the fear sets in over whether she will survive the winter. Sokka tells her if she didn’t spend so much time in the Fire Nation, the cold wouldn’t bother her as much. Katara bends a sheet of ice down her brother’s parka and runs away before he can catch the flush rising in her cheeks.

After all, it’s not exactly the heat of the Fire Nation she craves.

* * *

Katara settles back into her routine like slipping on an old parka. In the morning, she teaches waterbending or healing. She spends every spare moment of lunch with Gran Gran, either helping her cook, mend, or prepare the stores for winter. Afternoons find her in council meetings and politics.

Though she still needs to remind some of the older members of her triumphs, most of the tribe respects her place in meetings. They remember all she sacrificed to end the war.

She never speaks of the war she continues to fight, hundreds of miles away, with a friend who feels just as stuck as her.

* * *

The old parka doesn’t quite fit like Katara remembers. Everyone in the tribe fulfills a role, everyone must carry their weight to ensure life continues. Katara has too many roles: Ambassador, Master Waterbender, healer, daughter, sister. No single role feels quite enough, but she suffocates under the weight of all of them.

Katara no longer feels sure of what her role is anymore.

Or maybe, she doesn’t know what she wants her role to be.

Or maybe, she does know and is too scared to face it.

* * *

Katara wakes, like any other day. She stretches before heading to teach the newest waterbenders. She picks up a loaf of bread on her way to Gran Gran’s, something hearty to have with their five-flavor soup. Sokka nearly bores her to death with his ramblings about his lookout tower.

Once afternoon rolls around and she presents her piece in the lodge meeting, Katara stands and calmly says, “I have not received any updates from the Fire Nation regarding our latest trade proposal, so I have nothing new to add to today’s proceedings.” She nods at her father, settling back into her seat.

At that moment, Hawky flies straight into the window across from Sokka. Rolling her eyes, Katara stands and opens the window, allowing Hawky to land on Sokka’s shoulder. Katara closes the window against the chill and crosses the room to retrieve the two letters from the messenger hawk.

Sokka smacks himself in the forehead. “Sorry sis,” he says, despite Katara’s death glare at his informal address, “I asked Hawky to bring your mail to you before lunch. I guess he got distracted again.”

“It appears I will have something to contribute to tomorrow’s meeting after all. I’ll be sure to follow up on these as soon as we are finished,” she states, ignoring the thrum of her pulse when she catches sight of the Fire Lord’s personal insignia on one of the letters.

“Well I think that was everything for today,” Hakoda declares, nodding to each member of the council. “Thank you all.”

Katara itches to race home, but she waits. She carefully packs her notes, ensuring she was not the first to leave nor the last. She forces herself to keep a steady pace as she exits the Great Hall. Once she rounds the corner, she can no longer wait. Katara races home, pointedly ignoring the stares of anyone she passes as she used her bending to propel her towards her house.

As soon as she safely locks herself away indoors, she throws her bag on a desk and opens Zuko’s letter. Politics could always wait for friends.

_Dear Katara,_

_I am glad to hear you made it back safely. Thank Agni you didn’t have to waterbend your ship through a storm like last year._

_You’ve only been gone a month and a half, yet I count the days till your return. I feel your absence more than any of our friends. Perhaps it’s because you are the only one who understands the struggles of fighting with my council. ~~Perhaps~~_

_I look forward to your thoughts on the latest report on trade with the Water Tribes. If it’s alright, I also sent a copy of the new hospital reform proposal. If you have time, would you mind reading it over?_

_The turtleducks are preparing for the monsoon season, as is the rest of the country. I have a feeling there will be new babies by the time you return in the spring. Although, it never seems like we have a spare minute to visit them together, does it?_

_Yours always,_

_Zuko_

Katara falls back onto a pile of furs, reading and rereading Zuko’s letter. Each time her heart speeds up as she lingers on the possibilities.

_Perhaps…_

With a groan, Katara rises, stashing Zuko’s with the rest of his personal correspondence. It would do her no good to wonder the nature of Zuko’s letters. She forces herself to open the letter with the Fire Nation Seal, sinking back into her role as Ambassador.

She carefully shoves aside any thoughts of what she wanted.

* * *

Whatever duties or roles Katara busies herself with during the day, nothing sticks at night to keep her mind from wandering. As she lay wide awake, nestled in her pile of furs, her mind drifts back to Zuko’s letter.

_Perhaps._

His letters usually jump between Fire Lord and friend, discussing politics in one line and the weather in the next. This is the first time he toed the line of something more.

They were both careful not to speak of their nightly pursuits in letters. Katara remembers how Zuko once suggested they create a code, a language only they could understand, but Katara feared for his crown. She remembers trying to convince the Blue Spirit to make rounds of the capital without her, but he refused.

“The rumors say the Blue Spirit is in love with the Painted Lady, always chasing after her,” he had whispered in a dark alley, a rare quiet moment before they made there way back to the palace. “It wouldn’t do for him to appear without her.”

His voice had been muffled by the mask, but even the memory still sends a shiver down Katara’s spine. She doesn’t dare let herself think about the rumors of the spirits. She doesn’t dare let herself hope for anything more.

Tonight she lays restless, tossing and turning under the power of the moon. Too accustomed to her sleepless nights in the Fire Nation, she often finds herself waterbending late into the night to tire herself out.

As Katara rubs her thighs together, she thinks of other ways she might tire herself out.

Her mind wanders to the night Zuko told her the rumor of the spirits. They had interrupted an attempted assault, had dropped the man on the steps of the courthouse, had made their way to an abandoned tower to watch for some other crime to intercept.

Katara can’t remember when she stopped watching and let herself be fucked by the Blue Spirit.

Katara’s breath hitches as her pulse picks up. _The Painted Lady_ she mentally corrects herself. _The Blue Spirit fucked the Painted Lady._

 _But it was you who enjoyed it_ a traitorous voice in her head reminds her.

Katara huffs, rolling over in a futile attempt to settle further into her furs. She squeezes her eyes shut against the barrage of memories, of hushed groans and silent screams, of too hot hands grabbing her, holding her, thrusting into her.

 _Might as well_ Katara admits, letting a hand trail down her body, _might be able to sleep after._

Katara keeps her eyes closed, no longer fighting the memories of the Blue Spirit’s hot touch. She mirrors the movements of the hands in her memory, teasing and firmly grasping her breasts before trailing one hand down to the waistband of her leggings.

The Blue Spirit never speaks when she pulled him apart or when he pulled her apart. Katara draws upon the carefully catalogued memories of his noises, his muffled grunts and biting moans as she starts to tease herself. She drags a finger through her folds, collecting her wetness to swirl upon her clit. She bites her lip, shivering at the phantom touches of his bruising grip on her hip as he slips one then another finger in her.

Katara swallows her own moans as she sets a quick rhythm. With the Blue Spirit, it’s quick, always hurried, always chasing after something they could never hold for more than a few minutes. This time, Katara lets herself relish the feeling of her fingers inside herself, enjoying the growing pressure for a moment longer than the Blue Spirit might have.

When the Blue Spirit entered her at last, he would hold still for just a moment, as if letting her adjust, or memorizing the moment, or-

Katara shakes her head, bringing her other hand to press circles into her clit. _Just focus on the feeling,_ she tells herself. _Focus._

The Blue Spirit always sets a brutal pace, but she never feels more alive than those moments when he pushes into her, against her. One hand holding her legs wrapped around him, one wandering, hot even through her dress. Sometimes, the muffled noises behind the mask sound like curses, burned deep in her mind. Katara never let herself pretend the noises were meant to be her name. That might be too much, too close-

Katara squeezes her eyes and recalls the first time the Blue Spirit fucked the Painted Lady. She isn’t quite sure what she needed that night, can’t quite put a name to the solace she sought in the arms of the Blue Spirit. After, as they leaped from rooftop to rooftop back to the palace, Katara remembers telling herself it was just another way of relieving stress. Just another way of seeking comfort after the long days of pretending to know how to live in a world without a war.

The Painted Lady lies to herself no better than Katara.

“UGH!” Katara exclaims, opening her eyes. She removes her hand, rolls over with a huff. It never took this long for her to finish on her own. What kept her from tumbling over the edge tonight, she wonders?

_Perhaps…_

Katara rolls onto her back, biting her lip. She never imagines anything other than what the Blue Spirit gave the Painted Lady. She always relies on her memories, her carefully preserved thoughts of their hurried trysts, whenever she touched herself. As long as she kept the lines clear, everything would be okay.

The Fire Lord would ask Ambassador Katara for insight into healthcare. Her friend Zuko would trip over his words as he told her about the turtleducks. The Blue Spirit would use his dao swords with deadly precision, cutting down those who preyed on the weak, the innocent. He would stand guard as the Painted Lady healed, bringing those sick back from the brink of death.

And then he finds an abandoned tower, or temple, or rooftop, and fucks her.

Tonight though, Katara feels the lines blurring. That one word, crossed out, not meant for her to see, keeps running through her mind. Katara shuts her eyes, lets herself pretend that it wasn’t the Blue Spirit or even her friend Zuko in her mind.

Zuko. Just Zuko.

Katara slowly teases her nipples, imagining his mouth would be as hot as his hands on her skin. One hand follows the vision of Zuko, trailing kisses down her chest, her stomach, her hips. When Katara slips a hand into her curls again, it is Zuko’s tongue she imagines, trailing down, licking torturous circles around her clit before finally sucking. As Katara slides one, two fingers back inside herself, she lets herself pretend he is licking into her, hungry to lap up every drop of her wetness.

She had often wondered what his eyes looked like behind the mask during their hurried trysts. She ponders it now as she imagines him looking up at her from between her legs. Is the gold molten, liquid hot like his touches? Or do his eyes glow, like the embers of a dying fire, echoing the embers he always stoked in her?

Katara, _just Katara,_ can moan without worrying about anyone else hearing. Katara can cry out without fear of being caught. Katara can cry Zuko’s name as she tumbles over the edge, finally reaching her release. She continues to rub her clit, clenching around her fingers as she rides out the waves of her orgasm. It takes a few moments to withdraw her hand and a few minutes more for her breathing to level out.

_Oh fuck._

Despite her worry about the blurring lines, Katara falls asleep quickly.

She dreams of golden eyes burning through blue masks.

* * *

For three long years, Zuko searched for a way to return to a home he no longer knew.

These days, he chases the feeling of home in the arms of someone who never stayed.

* * *

It never feels quite right, her leaving before the monsoon season. Just once, Zuko longs for her to see his nation, drowning in her element.

He wonders if it would feel like he does, drowning in her.

* * *

Serving as Fire Lord is at once exactly what Zuko thinks it would be like and nothing like what he imagined. Hard work ever-present, Zuko put his country back together after a hundred years of war. No easy task, he convinces the other nations of his dedication to peace. He remembers knowing it was something he would have to work at, every day, to eradicate the prejudices of the past.

He just thinks he deserves a minute to himself occasionally.

Every minute of his day planned; his advisors know the schedule down to the time it takes for him to cross from one end of the palace to the other. Even the hours spent in his office toiling away at the never-ending mountain of paperwork, he spends with his secretary, ensuring not to miss his next appointment. He has precious few moments to himself. Only when a meeting ends early or an appointment cancels at the last minute is he free. Any moment he can steal away, he makes his way to his mother’s gardens to check on the turtleducks.

Zuko does not count the moments he has to himself before sleeping. No one needs to know what the Fire Lord does in the privacy of his own room.

* * *

No one needs to know how his skin itches and burns when the Painted Lady is gone. No one needs to know how much the Blue Spirit aches to roam the empty streets with her.

No one needs to know how the Fire Lord burns for his Ambassador.

* * *

Luckily, today his budget meeting ends an hour early. The rains have not yet started, so he collects his personal mail and retreats to the quiet of the gardens. He tears a loaf of bread, pilfered from the breakfast table, tossing it to the turtleducks and opens his letters.

The first is from Uncle, stating how much he misses Zuko and how proud he is. Zuko makes a mental note to ask his secretary to book an airship for Uncle to come visit.

The next is from Aang, letting Zuko know he will pass through in a month to discuss trade with the Earth Kingdom. Zuko files that piece of information away, knowing it only takes a week to prepare the stables for Appa’s visits.

The last is from _her,_ and he greedily opens it, almost tearing the parchment in his excitement to read the letter.

_Dear Zuko,_

_I know I say this every year, but I don’t know why I choose to come home in time for the coldest months of the year. Sokka says I spend too much time away from the South Pole these days. I wonder if I spend too much time here, if there is somewhere else I’m needed more. ~~If there’s~~_

_Already I count the days till I return. I’m ready for warmer weather. What does that say about me, that I actually miss the heat sometimes?_

_I looked over the hospital reform and attached it with my trade report. I think it’s wonderful what you are trying to do, Zuko._

_We should have a tea break by the turtleduck pond when I return! I’d love to see the new ducklings! Though like you said, it seems we never have a spare minute to ourselves. Isn’t it funny that maintaining peace is more difficult than ending a war?_

_Yours,_

_Katara_

Zuko frowns, rereading the letter again and again. Her last lines were the closest she had ever come to mentioning their vigilante activities. She normally writes so careful, too worried about getting caught to mention it in ink.

He glances over the letter once more, the crossed-out words catching his eye. If there’s…. what? Somewhere else she wants to go? Or, perhaps, someone else that needs her?

Zuko closes his eyes, the memories of their last tryst surfacing in his mind. He clenches his jaw, swallowing a groan at the memory of Katara, on her knees, working him over with her hand and her mouth.

 _Of the Painted Lady,_ his demons whisper to him, _the Painted Lady wants you. Not Katara._

Still, he feels his blood pooling as he remembers the way Katara swallowed him, filthy choking noises spilling from her lips. Maybe he has a few minutes to sneak off to his chambers and-

“Fire Lord, I’m sorry to disturb you.” Zuko opens his eyes, blinking away the lingering vision of the Painted Lady. “The minister of finance has asked if she can review the budget with you once more before this afternoon’s meeting.”

With a heavy sigh, Fire Lord Zuko nods. “Of course, I’ll meet her in my office in a few minutes.”

His skin is crawling, but duty calls.

* * *

No one knows, no one understands the way his robes feel too heavy, too much.

No one but Katara, and she can only help twice a year.

* * *

Zuko is exhausted, another long day of meetings over, but can’t fall asleep. No amount of tossing or turning settles the churning in his mind.

_If there’s…._

Those words haunted his meetings, echoing in his steps around the empty palace. As much as he obsesses, he cannot reconcile why Katara would use those words.

Katara acts confidently in everything she does. She commands, no, _demands_ respect in every aspect of her life. As an Ambassador she speaks with conviction, sure of her people and their needs. As a healer, she is kind but firm with her diagnosis and treatments. As the Painted Lady, she is swift in delivering justice, never second-guessing her strikes.

For her to begin a sentence, to cross it out, something must heavily weigh on her mind.

Zuko spends far more of his time thinking of Katara than he cares to admit. He tells himself it is because she understands him better than anyone, understands how much he’s overcome to get to his current standing, understands the pain of losing their mothers. The Fire Lord persuades himself it’s because Ambassador Katara is his best ally in any meeting. The Blue Spirit decides he worries over The Painted Lady’s safety because he is the one putting her in danger every night she is here.

No matter who he pretends to be, Zuko is a terrible liar.

He knows it took him far longer than it should have to realize he loves Katara. No matter how much he scrutinizes his past, his mistakes, he cannot imagine a world where he does not fall in love with her.

He can’t decide if it makes it better or worse that she lets him fuck her when she visits.

With a groan, Zuko sits up, surveying his dark room. He waves a hand, a candle lighting on his bedside table. Rubbing his temples, he fights off the headache sure to come if he does not fall asleep soon.

How many times has he pictured bringing Katara to his rooms? How often has he imagined her hair fanning across his pillows, her legs tangled in his bedsheets? Zuko’s lost count of the nights he’s pleasured himself with thoughts of Katara.

He groans again, head falling in his hands. He feels so guilty for thinking of Katara in those moments, as if he disrespects by imagining her while he’s alone. Even still, only Katara plagues his thoughts, only her too blue eyes and smooth skin he sees in his mind.

Zuko falls back on the mountain of pillows, huffing as he lands. Already his cock is twitching, half-hard at the mere idea of Katara in his private chambers. He debates his options, waving his hand to extinguish the candle. His hand twitches at his side, itching to run over umber skin and tangle in long dark hair.

He finally gives in, pulling down his sleep shorts just enough for his cock to spring free. He bites his lip, choking back a moan as he wraps his hand around himself and begins pumping slowly. Zuko closes his eyes, letting his favorite fantasy play out behind his eyes.

_“Zuko,” Katara whispers, trailing her hands over his chest, fingers lingering just a moment too long over the starburst-scar. “Zuko,” she repeats, a promise, a declaration._

“Katara,” Zuko moans, picking up the speed and bucking his hips into his hand.

_“Let me,” she says, her hand finally reaching his length. She twists a little as she pulls up, her eyes locked on his. She waves her hand, coating it in a glove of water, before resuming her ministrations._

Zuko moans, wetting his palm in a feeble attempt to match his vision.

_“Does that feel good?” Katara whispers, her free hand trailing over his thighs, his hips, his chest. For a waterbender, her touch leaves sparks in its trail. “Do I make you feel good?”_

Zuko can only groan in response, his mental image shifting to drag over her form.

_“Do you like it when I touch you?” Katara continues, a smirk pulling at her lips. “Or would you rather see me touch myself?” She withdraws her hands, sitting up to trail them over her body. She moans as she teases her nipples. Zuko groans, words failing to communicate how he misses her touch. “Or maybe you prefer it when I touch you while I touch myself?”_

Zuko speeds up, his pace brutal. He can feel his end approaching, the heat coiling low in his center, ready to burst.

_Katara reaches for him again with her water coated hand, her other snaking down to twist in her curls. She throws her head back, crying out as she brings them both to the edge. “Please,” she begs, and Zuko reaches to replace her hand with his own. “Ahhh! Yes! I’m going to- Zuko!”_

The sound of his name tumbling from her pretty, pretty lips sends him over the edge. Zuko moans a strangled version of her name, spilling into his hand. He pumps himself until he is spent, then drops his hand to his side.

_Oh fuck._

Zuko swiftly cleans himself, tucking himself back under the sheets. A wave of guilt washes over him.

This isn’t what he wants. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be.

Zuko swears he will do better by Katara. As much as it might kill him, he won’t touch her again until she knows. Half of an idea forms, rough ideas of how he will tell her upon her return.

He finally drifts off to sleep, dreaming of fire lilies and ocean blue eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> I should probably point out that I asked Goldilocks and was advised that in this AU Katara visits the Fire Nation for 2 weeks twice a year, and it takes 2 1/2 weeks by boat one way to get from the SWT to the FN. You know, in case anyone else had burning logistical questions about Solace 😂
> 
> I super appreciate any and all feedback! I’m still learning (*glares at strikethrough html*) and would love to hear what you think!
> 
> And come scream about Zutara with me on tumblr [gemgirl28](https://www.tumblr.com/blog/gemgirl28)


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